


coda

by shuutsukiyama (byakuyakuchiki)



Category: Tokyo Ghoul
Genre: Biting, Canon-Typical Violence, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, M/M, Marriage, Mild Blood, Trans Male Character, it's marriage via bite you know the drill
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-21
Updated: 2018-09-21
Packaged: 2019-07-15 02:17:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,210
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16053356
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/byakuyakuchiki/pseuds/shuutsukiyama
Summary: when the dust settles and everything is at peace, yomo and uta finally get married.





	coda

The shop is closed when Yomo lets himself in through the back entrance, the usual rhythm of voices— Uta’s and his customers’— absent from the building. When humans and ghouls began working together and mending their relationship with one another, Uta no longer had ghouls coming to him in desperate need to hide their faces so they could fight back against the CCG agents. What he found himself facing, instead, were people who wanted to commission his work for various reasons, for gifts and costumes and, based on some of the designs, sexual play. As a result, he had garnered a cult following among cosplayers in the area.

Though he has no personal stake in Uta’s business as Uta runs it by himself and handles all of his transactions and finances with an adept touch, Yomo is happy to see Uta finding a place to settle in their new world. After their fight, Yomo was concerned that Uta would not be able to fit into a world where ghouls and humans were no longer enemies, where Yomo was near him constantly and offering him the support he might need. Now, though, there were plenty of framed photographs on the walls of the shops, Uta posing with some of his new favorite patrons.

Even with the shop closed, Uta is in the main room, tidying up the room and humming an unfamiliar tune to himself. The top of his jacket is sliding down his shoulders, leaving the pale skin bare and exposed under the shop lighting, the top of one tattoo flashing into sight when he shifts just slightly. In the years the two of them have known each other, Yomo has never gotten used to how beautiful Uta is or how graceful he can make even small gestures look.

“You’re here, Raven-kun?” Uta glances at him over his shoulder, dark wisps of hair tumbling into his eyes in the process. “You could have told me. How long have you been standing there?”

“Just a few minutes. I like looking at you like this sometimes.” Yomo pushes himself off of the doorway leading into the back of the shop where Uta actually lives, the doorway not far from a staircase that leads up to the bedroom. “When you aren’t paying attention. How was today?”

Uta wings dark eyebrows up at him before shrugging and turning back around, fingers carefully straightening one of the new photographs. “Today was good. I have half a dozen more orders to work on, but it’s nice to have a way to pass the time. Humans are surprisingly nice.”

“As long as they’re paying you.” Yomo winds his way through the store to where Uta moves to another photograph, content to let Yomo walk right up to him.

His hands find a familiar place around Uta’s waist, fingers pressing into the skin through the thin material of his t-shirt as he presses his nose against the side of Uta’s throat. He loves quiet moments like this where he can remind himself how grateful he is they were able to work things out between the two of them. That not only did he get back his best friend but his partner in crime, the other half of his soul. Most people thought they could barely tolerate each other; only Itori seems to have figured out the truth long before they had to spell it out.

Uta hums and leans back into his touch, his slender back braced against Yomo’s chest, one hand coming to curl loosely around his wrist. Not trying to pull him away or dislodge him but just holding on because he can. “Of course they’re paying me. Since when would I work for free?”

“Doesn’t hurt to check.” Yomo lets his lips drag along the soft skin of Uta’s throat, admiring how soft the skin beneath his lips is. He knows that Uta’s tattoos are just slightly raised from his skin, not quite perfectly smooth, an interesting texture to play with.

“You worry about me far too much.” Uta stretches a hand back, fingers curling against the back of Yomo’s neck as he arches his own, head falling to the side in clear offering.

The sight stills Yomo, his breathing soft and slow against Uta’s skin. As the world around them slowly falls into place, there is no ignoring how much Yomo wants to seal their relationship, place one final label on top of it so that everyone who sees Uta knows he belongs to someone. Ghoul marriage is relatively simple in contrast to human marriage, but somehow the lack of pomp makes it all the more important when they finally settle down with one another and pick a location to leave the scars of teeth behind.

Though the two of them had discussed it once or twice, there was no conclusion to their conversation, but Yomo tends to remember when Uta bares skin for him. He can’t help but wonder what it would be like to press his teeth in deep, let the wound scar over so that Uta is his in every way— his best friend, his partner, his  _ husband. _

“Your thoughts are very loud,” Uta complains; Yomo smiles against his skin. “What’s wrong?”

Yomo sighs, presses another kiss to his skin. “Nothing is wrong. I’m just remembering that we never decided if we wanted to tie the knot officially or just let it rest.”

“Oh, this again.” Uta turns to face him, not stepping out of the circle of Yomo’s arms; his fingers link behind Yomo’s neck, fitting perfectly like they belong there. “Do you still want to? We have a bad habit of having a conversation but not really coming up with an answer. But if you want to marry me, you know I’ll let you sink your teeth in any time.”

The suggestive tone of his voice has Yomo rolling his eyes. “It’s a serious conversation, Uta.”

“Who said I’m not being serious?” Uta kisses his chin; Yomo can feel his teeth, bared in a grin. “Being with you in any sense of the word makes me happy, so I can’t imagine marriage being less than. Unless you’re having second thoughts and you don’t want to marry me.”

“You’re ridiculous.” Yomo pulls Uta up against his chest, nosing the shaved side of his head; the last thing he needs is Uta  _ ever _ thinking that Yomo isn’t wrapped around his finger, like Yomo could ever  _ not _ want to be tied to Uta in every way possible. “Of course I still want to.”

He thinks he sees a flash of relief in those familiar crimson eyes before Uta sighs, pressing their foreheads together, the ends of their noses bumping gently. “If it’s so important to you, then we’ll do it. Do you want a ceremony of some sort, or are we doing it privately like your nephew did?”

“It’s an intimate moment I’m not prepared to share with anyone else. They’ll see the mark I leave on you. That’s all they need to know.” Yomo presses his fingers into the small of Uta’s back, unable to hide his smile when Uta leans into his chest, chin resting on top of his shoulder. “Upstairs, I think. Ken said it could be a bit overwhelming.”

“He would know.” Uta tilts his head, lips teasing against the side of Yomo’s neck. “Carry me up to bed, then. You should carry the bride across the threshold.”

Yomo doesn’t have it in him to argue with such a request. He swings Uta up into his arms instead, one arm resting in the small of his back and the other tucked in the bend of his knees, his hold as firm as it will ever be. Uta makes a small delighted sound, kicks his feet a little as he settles in against Yomo’s chest, and Yomo wonders if it ever gets old for Uta. They fought each other for so long, and he knows now what he didn’t then, that Uta missed him and fiercely, that Uta wanted Yomo back in his life and then gave up on the possibility. He wonders if Uta enjoys every moment they share so thoroughly because of that loss, that emptiness.

A lesser man might not have been able to navigate the stairs with Uta in his arms, but Yomo has done this a thousand times before and has them both in the bedroom safe and sound within a couple of minutes. Gently, he sets Uta in the center of the bed, hands hovering against his body as he pulls himself up onto the mattress. Though Yomo bounced around in terms of having somewhere to sleep after the destruction of Anteiku, Uta insisted they should just move in with one another since they were together once again.

Of course, Yomo is far from a fool. He knows it was another attempt of Uta’s to get him close and keep him close, decreasing the distance between them as steadily as possible. He just doesn’t mind. Why would he want to be anywhere else?

“Where do you want to mark me?” Uta shrugs out of his jacket, tossing it over the edge of the bed; the tank top beneath bares his arms and neck, the fabric loose and worn and soft.

Yomo hums thoughtfully, then slips his hand underneath the top. “Take this off while I think.”

Uta is incorrigible; the tank top is gone in moments and he sprawls out on the mattress, pale limbs stretched against the dark comforter beneath him. Uta’s slender body is defined with muscle and the dark ink of his tattoos, the faded scars beneath his pectoral muscles. Seeing Uta so relaxed in front of him like this, bright eyes fixed on his face while Yomo pretends to think just so he can have a nice long chance to look at his lover.

“Make a decision yet?” Uta finally asks him, nudging Yomo’s leg with his fingers.

“I think so.” Yomo catches Uta’s fingers in his own, drawing Uta into a sitting position, sweeping long black hair off of Uta’s shoulder to bare the side of his throat. “Next to your tattoo.”

It amuses him, the way Uta squirms on the comforter, a delighted little smile curving the corners of his lips. He’s so beautiful when he’s happy. “I should have known.”

“Do you want to pick where on me?” Yomo asks him.

“Same place on you. So we match. It’s cuter that way or something.” Uta shrugs, fingers flying back to his hair, adjusting his messy half-bun so the spot Yomo picked is entirely clear of hair. “You want to say anything sappy? Are we writing our own vows?”

Yomo raises an eyebrow at him. “Acting like I haven’t been thinking about this for a while now.”

“Oh.” Uta falls quiet, then tugs his knees up to his chest, resting his chin on top of them. “Okay, okay, you already wrote your vows. Go for it. I’m listening.”

“It’s not anything I don’t tell you every day, I don’t think. I love you. You mean so much to me.” Yomo hooks his fingers around Uta’s ankle, thumb brushing over the bone. “My best friend. It meant so much to me to have you back in my life. I didn’t think I’d make it out of that fight alive but I think living without you in my life wasn’t much better. Being able to carry you home that night, being able to start fixing things between us… I don’t have the words.”

Uta clicks his tongue at him. “You had all this time to think and you’re still tongue-tied.”

Yomo shakes his head, a fond smile touching his lips. “Of course I am. It’s  _ you. _ There’s never been anyone who means as much to me as you do. It’s why I tried so hard. It’s why I wanted things to be okay between us again. I didn’t even dare think about having you as more than a friend, then. I owe it to you for not giving up on that because now, I get to wake up to you every single morning. I adore you, Uta. I always have.”

“You’re a sap. Of course I wasn’t going to give up on us just because you were too wrapped up in being a stubborn bastard and protecting your kids or whatever.” Uta pokes him in the forehead with one slender finger, lips twitching up in a smirk. “Just because you haven’t learned doesn’t mean I wasn’t going to work hard for the happiness you owe me at this point.”

“It’s what I’m trying to give you now, isn’t it?” Yomo shakes his head fondly, unable to help himself. “Is there anything you want to say? It doesn’t seem like something you’d want to do—”

Uta flicks him in the forehead this time. “Don’t get ahead of yourself. Maybe I have something to say. Just sit back and listen for a change.”

Yomo does as he’s told, sitting back with his legs crossed beneath him, hands resting on top of his knees. He watches Uta unfold his own body, long legs stretched out in front of him, fingers stretched out on his thighs. Of course, he works up to having to speak and makes a big show of the ordeal, leaving Yomo on the edge of his seat with curiosity. After all, Uta has hardly ever been one of the most romantic people in the world despite how hard he’d fought to open Yomo’s eyes to the possibility they could become more than friends once more.

“You’re an idiot, Raven-kun. I had a lot of time to think about how much of an idiot you are, fighting for this peaceful and quiet life of yours.” Uta hums thoughtfully, a slow smile spreading across his lips when Yomo scoffs at him. “You grew up, though, and I didn’t. I needed your help to see what I was so obviously missing, and I didn’t even deserve it because I’d minutes before been trying to eat you. You had every right to leave me lying there, and you didn’t.”

“You’re my friend,” Yomo reminds him, and Uta’s eyes glitter up at him.

“I know that. Well,  _ now _ I know that. I thought for the longest time you didn’t care anymore and that leaving, that’s what you meant. But we’re here now, so obviously that’s not true. I’m just an idiot.” Uta grins at him, and there’s just the edge of something fierce in that smile; Yomo knows it well and doesn’t flinch back like so many humans would and have. “Like you said, we wake up to each other every day. We fight together once more like we used to, not just conveniently on each other’s sides but back-to-back. That means a lot to me, whether you know it or not.”

He tilts his head back, eyes fluttering shut, the pale skin of his throat on full display once more. “I want you to mark me, Renji. Make me your husband officially so that no one can ever doubt our bond. And just because I want to be able to show it off.”

“You’re the worst.” Yomo weighs his chance, then pounces.

Uta is everything a predatory ghoul should be; he doesn’t make it easy, kagune flashing through the air a half-second before Yomo’s hands close around his upper arms, coiling around him quickly enough to halt his motions. They’re placed strategically so that when Yomo reveals his own kagune, Uta’s aren’t cut; he uses the momentum to push Uta down onto the mattress, pressing his mouth against Uta’s neck, breathing hot against his skin.

Uta’s rinkaku curl around him in a delicate embrace, hugging him closer to Uta’s body; of course Uta would make him fight for it because that’s in his nature but now his kagune are gentle, warm through Yomo’s shirt. He runs his fingers over one of them carefully; Uta’s fingers smooth over his ukaku in return, pressing into the harsh lines, finding softer spaces between them.

Yomo kisses the side of Uta’s throat and then he bites, sinking his teeth in until the skin breaks and blood rushes hot and wet against his teeth, smearing against his lips. Uta’s body arches beneath his, rinkaku coiling tighter around him, unwilling to let him go. Yomo persists, biting deeper, careful not to chew; he just needs to leave a scar.

The moment he leans back, Uta surges up against him, teeth finding purchase in Yomo’s throat, sharp and sudden but welcome just the same. It  _ hurts _ but Yomo bears it because he wants this, hands smoothing around Uta’s back, holding him as close as he can. The pain is intense but it’s well worth it; the taste of Uta’s blood on his tongue reminds him of exactly why he’s holding out for this, the press of his rinkaku, the warmth of Uta’s body in his arms.

When Uta falls back against the mattress, Yomo falls with him. Their heartbeats are both racing now, pinging off of each other, their kagune still exposed. Uta’s eyes are closed, but there’s no mistaking the blissful smile spread across his features, lips stained with Yomo’s blood.

“You’re stuck with me forever now,” he teases, fingers running through Yomo’s hair.

“Like I’d ever want to be anywhere else.” Yomo runs his tongue over the bite mark on Uta’s throat, grinning when Uta shivers beneath him. “Like you’d want me to be anywhere else.”

“That’s true. I’m selfish and I want you all to myself.” Uta bumps their foreheads together. “Well, maybe I can loan you out to Kaneki so we can see Ichika.”

Yomo snorts. “What’s next, then? Kids of our own?”

“Maybe,” Uta singsongs. “I haven’t thought about the details just yet. Would you want kids?”

Yomo leans up to look down at him, reading Uta’s expression carefully before speaking. “Well, Ichika’s a wonderful kid. You think you could pull off raising a kid with me?”

“Raising a kid?  _ Me? _ ” Uta curls his fingers around the back of Yomo’s neck, pulling him down. “I suppose if it’s with you, I can do just about anything, can’t I?”

The kiss is rough and bloody, and Yomo can taste himself on Uta’s lips and knows Uta can taste the same on his own. But it’s them, the way Uta’s rinkaku flex against his back to keep him close, fingers pressing into the back of his neck hard enough to leave bruises while Yomo’s ukaku curve downward, blanketing Uta’s body as best they can. It’s them through and through and Yomo would never change any aspect of their relationship for anything in the world.

When the bite marks have scarred over fully and there is no hiding the extent of their devotion to one another, they can visit the kids and show them. He can only imagine the responses, the lack of surprise more than anything else because it isn’t like Yomo hasn’t been obvious, that the progression wasn’t leading to this moment. Ichika will be the most surprised, he thinks, so he can’t wait to see her little face light up when she realizes what it means.

They can think about kids of their own later.


End file.
